


Spin

by sweetiejelly



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Rating: NC17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>However you spin it, they are right together, end up all right together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spin

**Author's Note:**

> Written so belatedly for random_nic for her birthday. A long time ago you misread one of my sentences and thought I'd written 'I want you to fuck me in public' and said if I ever wanted to go there. lol So, this took 3 tries. The 1st two attempts were just not working. Tonight, just before I was about to go to bed, all these words came to me. So here they are. Hope you like it, Nic. And a belated happy, happy birthday to you! :)
> 
> ETA: [strictlybecca](http://archiveofourown.org/users/strictlybecca/pseuds/strictlybecca) made a podfic of this, which can be found on her Tumblr [here](http://strictlybecca.tumblr.com/post/13436845490/podfic-of-sweetiejellys-beautiful-fic-spin-which)! Thanks Becca!

You spin and spin and spin, going faster and faster, eyes focused on his, hands clutched tight in his, until everything else is a blur, until you feel like you're completely out of control. If he ever lets go...

If he ever lets go, you think you will fall, splay to the ground ungracefully and not all at once either, but in pieces, in slow-mo where everyone has time enough to work their mouths agape, showing you what you already know - there's a hole now. You're alone now.

You're never alone, what with all the voices in your head - yours, his, your father's. It's a cacophony, loud, terrible company.

 _You're_ terrible company. At least you think so. You're funny and make up puns in your head and no one ever knows what your private smile is all about. They think you're eccentric. You know better. You're selfish. He told you so once, five times in a row.

Row, row, row your boat... The nursery rhyme plays out quietly as your next door neighbor navigates new waters, motherhood. You never had a mother, not properly. You're not jealous, you tell yourself. It's just that her voice is soothing. You think you could sleep to that voice, if it ever sang for you.

 _He_ sang for you. Once upon a time. Once upon a time, he did a lot of things for you. To you. With you.

With you, he is the warmest, the coldest. You still feel the burn of his words. Not right. Not right. You are not.

Right, so you don't write each other like old fashioned lovers. You text like modern lovers, trying to be cool, detached, like you have armor three shields deep. Except you really don't. You smile when he texts you smiley faces, wink-y faces. You smile your eccentric smile.

He was smiling in your dream when you dreamt of seeing. _Him._ In the light his head is haloed. He is the purest thing you know. Of love.

When he tells you he loves you, you believe him. When he tells you he doesn't, you believe him too.

Two o'clock in the afternoon. You are working. But then again, these days you are always working. So it's hardly any surprise he shows up in the middle of a shoot. And you don't see him. He sees you though. He waits for the scene to wrap. You turn around because it feels like a giant invisible hand is pointing behind you. _Look! Look!_

You look. He is beautiful in a way that makes beautiful look basic. Basically, you feel the same way you always do, the same way you think you always will. Hey, you say, or something equally stupid-simple like that.

Hey, he says back. He's got that proud boyfriend look smeared all over his lips, his eyes. You think it looks indecent. At least it makes you want to do indecent things to him. Like drag him inside a bathroom stall and fuck him and kiss him and let him do whatever to you that make you say stupid things. Like 'I missed you' or 'I love you' or some such.

But no, that's the scene in your head. The scene in real life is a little less hurried. You hug first. That's important. You get to touch him at least. And he hugs you back just as warmly, perfectly, his arms and shoulders tucking under where nobody else fits so completely. He pulls away or you do. Anyway, he breathes on your cheek and you don't think. You lean in and kiss him. Just a peck. Nothing really grand or close to indecent. Just a kiss. On the lips.

You talk. Or rather he talks. You listen and you answer. And you ask about his family because once upon a time...

But no, you have no time for fairy tales. You have no time for a long chat either. You have to get back to work. Because there is a whole team now. And they are not paid in beer. They cost. So time is not really what you have right that minute. He nods, hugs you again. I'll see you later. Dinner?

Dinner is... something, somewhere. You remember the company a bit more. You, him, your legs brushing under the table, happy accidents. You talk, easy nothings.

But nothing quite prepares you for the real talk. The one he springs on you mid-chew. The one that makes you reach for your glass of water and gulp.

Gulping is hardly anything new with him. You do that around him. Kind of a lot. Since the very beginning. It's some tick or something you can't control. You can't control much of anything when it comes to him. Especially when he tells you he's sorry about telling you a lie. That he never didn't love you.

He loves you. And-and-and. You are. We are. He stutters. Right. He holds his breath and then laughs awkwardly, a blush topping a smattering of dimples, charming. Um, well, anyway, he's happy to be here. To see you. To see you work. To see you at all. He's just really, really proud of you. He lifts his eyes and you hold his gaze.

There's something strong in this look. This is not a look that lets go. This one helps you up off the ground.

You are grounding against each other in a stall in the bathroom of the restaurant. It's posh and the walls look like marble and feel cold and hard against your back. You don't even care. You hitch his legs up higher on your body and you suck on his tongue. You make him make some kind of noise. Incoherent he is. Incoherent you are. Your breaths come heavy as they come, loud in the space of the stall.

You don't even care. He is licking over your neck, sucking low on your pulse point. His hands are in your pants and your hands are on his ass. Still he is too far away. _Fuck me, fuck me_ , you think you may have said. You have no shame. You are selfish. He knows this. You want to give yourself to him too. He knows this as well.

He grins at you, brilliant. Like he brings his own damn solar system with him. You spin and you spin and you spin. Around him, you feel like you're a top toppling. Gladly. For him you will.

He works you open. His finger (then fingers) is brilliant. He knows just what to do, how to bite down at the exact places. When to lick. He works you open for him. He calls you 'baby' and you open for him completely.

His thrusts are completely, ridiculously out of this world. They drive you forward. And then backward. Into him. Your hands press up tight, trying to find purchase in the useless door, so smooth it is and reflective, showing him to you in a blurred glory, like headlights zipping fast across a city, across a brand new world.

The rush comes fast as you jerk yourself off in time to his hips. You paint the marble marvelously white. And again. And again. He kisses your neck, open mouthed and sloppy. He pulls out and you miss him. But then his breath is ragged, fast and warm against your back as he comes, over the small of your back, dripping over the curve of your ass. You bite your lip and groan. It's another tick of yours. Another tick in his box.

 _Yes. Yes. Yes._ You reach for him and he pauses in his reach for the toilet paper. He kisses you with lips gentler than his words ever were sharp. He kisses you as you kiss him back, hands cradling his face.

You smile at him, and you realize for the first time in a long time you are not alone. He is looking back at you, grinning. And you can feel your heart sing, proud, loud, a symphony.

Then you both realize you are _really_ not alone. A throat clears outside your stall. Both of you slap hands over each other's mouths. You've got company!

You are half mortified but mostly just giddy and satisfied. You can’t help the giggles that escape, getting out of hand. But really, it's okay. Because you are navigating a new thing here. You are navigating it together.


End file.
